


a heaven in hell's despair

by DarkSideEmissary



Category: Melmoth the Wanderer - Charles Robert Maturin
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, I tried to write this in the old Gothic style, but probably not what happened, fallen angel Immalee, hello is anyone still here?, rocking up to a fandom 200 years late like, technically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSideEmissary/pseuds/DarkSideEmissary
Summary: Amidst the pandemonium of nature, as above the gale shrieked and moaned — as below the ocean crashed and bellowed — a female shriek became gradually audible. “No! Leave him — leave him!”The shadowy figure that emerged from the murky gloom was a sight to chill the blood — the silhouette of twisted and tattered once-great wings, the eyes that burned like red hot embers — it might well have been the arch-fiend himself. However, a cloud shifted and the moonlight shone full bright, and the figure resolved itself into the form of a beautiful woman.~In which two lovers are reunited.
Relationships: Melmoth/Immalee
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	a heaven in hell's despair

**Author's Note:**

> Love seeketh not itself to please,  
> Nor for itself hath any care;  
> But for another gives its ease,  
> And builds a heaven in hell's despair.
> 
> -William Blake, The Clod and the Pebble

Amidst the pandemonium of nature, as above the gale shrieked and moaned — as below the ocean crashed and bellowed — a female shriek became gradually audible. “No! Leave him — leave him!” 

The shadowy figure that emerged from the murky gloom was a sight to chill the blood — the silhouette of twisted and tattered once–great wings, the eyes that burned like red hot embers — it might well have been the arch-fiend himself. However, a cloud shifted and the moonlight shone full bright, and the figure resolved itself into the form of a beautiful woman.

Choaked, incredulous laughter emerged from the Wanderer, who lay sprawled upon the rocky crag overhanging the sea, whence he had been dragged by invisible forces beyond the ken of man. No true demon at the last, the frightful age of his countenance now told the truth of his lifespan — but, for all that, his mirthless laughter built and rose until it might still have been the mockery of the damned — or the extremities of madness.

The woman, if woman she was, approached with a tread that had something almost of the unearthly about it, as though she travelled half in a region other than that which may be seen by mortal eyes. Her smile was wide, warm and joyous — if devil she was then there was nothing of it in that smile. Even her eyes, with their terrible uncanny light, contained within them nothing of malignity.

“You!” gasped Melmoth. “Isidora! Is it — can it be you?”

“I am not Isidora,” the woman replied. “Isidora was a Christian name — I am Immalee, _your_ Immalee, if you will only,” and here she gave a gasp that was almost a sob and buried her face in her delicate hands.

He burst into another wild peal of laughter that was derisive and despairing both at once. “Immalee, _my_ Immalee, what have you done? Are you then to be damned, accursed, with me — for me? Will you wander at my side for ever, anathema to all that love or worship God in any form? After all that has passed, after you resigned all hope of _earthly_ happiness to secure your salvation — after all this, here you stand before me _at what cost!”_

“Salvation!” cried Immalee. “Paradise! What paradise without you there? My husband, be mine and I will be yours for ever!”

“Am _I, Melmoth the Wanderer,_ thus to be tempted?” the aged traveller murmured, more to himself than to Immalee, and indeed she did not hear him over the cacophony of nature. The hint of a bitter, mocking smile crossed his lips, and he raised his voice to address her. _“Is it_ you, Immalee? Is the evidence of my eyes to be trusted, or am I, even I, deceived by the arts of the fallen one?”

“I am Immalee!” she exclaimed, and clasped her hands and cast upon him an appealing look. “Look at me — see me! You know me — _you must_ know me!”

He gazed on her in silence, as if he were for once struck dumb, and presently there recurred, within those demon eyes, that supernatural lustre which had previously dwelt therein. The mockery of his mien mingled with a bitter kind of triumph, and he declared, “So, you have united your destiny with mine for ever — my own, unfortunate Immalee!”

“Yes, yours, oh yes — but not unfortunate, not if I am with you!” the beautiful being, no longer innocent, proclaimed. “I was promised Paradise, but I was miserable — miserable! — without you there!” And she crossed at last the ground that remained between them, to the edge of the precipice where he lay — her white arms extended to receive her husband.

The Wanderer clung to her and buried his face in the long tresses of her auburn hair. “Immalee, I would have saved you if I could,” he whispered — and it may or may not have been meant for her ears — but she heard it nevertheless.

“I know,” she answered. “The devil does not give his gifts freely, that one might go out and do good deeds in the world — for the receipt of his benefits, perforce the price must be paid — I know, my love.”

“You know!” he exclaimed, but she stroked his hair, which looked darker in the moonlight than it had but a moment before, and hushed him — and something of the frightful age so latterly gained seemed departed from his features. Immalee’s caressing fingers found the knot of the handkerchief tied around her demon-lover’s neck, and untied it. Forgotten, it tumbled in the wind, and over the sheer ledge, beneath which the sea roiled in tumult.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like Melmoth the Wanderer you should check out [the song of the same name by The Ground Will Shake.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIP-OuM6jlc)


End file.
